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Page 7 text:
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tiie senior magnet b Paul A. Duncan An eager hark greeted Bob I raynor as he stepped off his porch, gun in hand, and an expectant look in his eyes. I iis glance quickly left the study of the sky and came back to the dog leaping about in great leaps and fawning about him. “Sandy, he said, “What do you think of it this year, think we will have any luck? Sandy, on hearing his name called, was all attention. His appearance was nothing to arouse anyone’s curiosity until one looked into Sandy’s eyes. A soft dog-like look was there; but yet he would look back at one with a firm, proud look of a dog who knows no fear. His ears were short, his muzzle long, and his long wiry body gave the impression of great endurance rather than strength. His ancestry was not known, but it did not seem to make much difference to Bob, who always had a string of registered dogs. Bob had found him one day, a fence rail lying across his back, and a tin can tied on his tail. The dog had never made a sound and Bob, knowing what pain he must have been in, marveled at the little dog’s grit. “You certainly have sand, little fellow, he said, and a thought struck him, he would try something new'. He would take the little dog and give him the best training he could get and see how he would compare with his high priced dogs. So, Sandy came to live in a real dog’s paradise. As the rest of the dogs were all bird dogs, he was trained to be a rabbit dog. Every year the sportsmen of one of the western states had a roundup of hunters and dogs, and chief
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Page 8 text:
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ft THE SENIOR ai AGN E T among the events was the hare chase. Boh had never entered before because he always was grooming his dogs for the bird chase. This year when his champion dog counted a certainty to win, he turned his attention to Sandy. In the two years Sandy had spent with Bob, he had learned much, and now it seemed to him that something unusual was going to happen. For two weeks Bob had taken him to the field and seemed to be satisfied with nothing short of super-dog efforts. His sportsman’s blood was thrilled at the dog’s effort to please him and he in turn gave him all the help he could. At the dog’s eager bark, his eyes twinkled and he spoke to the dog as one might speak to a child. ‘‘Not had enough of it yet, old fellow? Well, this is where you get your test.” He stepped into his buckboard and calling the dog up beside him left the ranch. In about an hour’s time they arrived at the roundup. What happened in the next hour was somewhat trying on Sandy’s nerve. He was led here and there and many were the laughs that were made at his expense. Finally he was led up to a long field and there, in a position to go, he awaited his master’s command. “Go, Sandy!” was all he needed, and he was off like the wind. The place was full of trails, but they were mostly old and Sandy passed them up. In a few minutes he had struck a trail and the chase was on. His opponent, a wellmuscled dog, took up his cry, but quickly dropped it on examining the trail. But Sandy, erring for the first time in his life, had to be called off the trail. The other dog had by this time found the trail and by a smooth example of hare running had brought the hare into view and scored the first win. Another hare was let loose and the chase was on again. All this time the clouds had been gathering, and all except the real sportsmen left the field. Sud- denly the storm broke, but the judges, wishing to end the day’s work and make their decision, ordered the race to be continued. And this is where Sandy showed his real worth. The thunder bellowed and lightning flashed straight in the faces of those who were following. The large dog “King,” had to be led out from behind his master and set upon the trail; but at every opportunity, he crept back to his handler’s side and would not be put on the chase. Sandy after giving his master one appealing look, started off with the command to go; but at the next loud crash stopped; he again received the command, and like a soldier at battle, he began his double fight. First to keep that trail and then to fight those natural dog fears which come with a storm. Finally, when the judges had about decided to call off the race and award the prize to one of the dogs that had run earlier in the day, Sandy struck the warm trail. Off he started, but at the next flash, a tree was struck and a large limb was sent down to the ground at Sandy. A branch struck his leg and he was knocked almost senseless, but he seemed to hear the command “Go!” Gamely he started, and without a cry of protest, dragging his rear legs behind him he came to the hole in which the hare was hid. His feeble bark of holed, was answered by a shout of the judges, who had lost sight of him for the moment. Many were the exclamations of wonder and praise when they saw how he had covered the last thirty feet. In the mind of the judges there was now no doubt as to which dog of the day had run the best race. But to Bob, there was but one matter of importance, and that was not the prize but Sandy himself. He gathered him up in his arms and Sandy with his wonderful grit made no whimper, but just a questioning look in his eyes as he was bandaged tight and placed on a velvet cushion. i
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